


Recording and Reporting Occupational Injuries and Illness

by OnlySlightlyObsessed1



Series: Occupational Hazards [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s03e12 Plato's Stepchildren, Established Relationship, I can't be bothered to come up with plots on my own, Jim's POV, M/M, POV Outsider, a brief bit of McCoy's POV, that being said this is just so much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/pseuds/OnlySlightlyObsessed1
Summary: The best that can be said about Starfleet's Risk Assessment team is that they usually aren't wrong. Jim is rarely pleased with their evaluations.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It probably would help if you've watched the episode, because while I have gratuitously taken dialogue and rearranged it to fit my own needs, I do not actually depict the episode's plot. At some point, I promise McCoy and Spock will get to see each other in a more normal situation.
> 
> This story is set some time after the previous two.

Recipient: James T. Kirk Post: _Enterprise_ R&E Rank: Captain

Sender: Starfleet Command, Risk Management

Subject: Medical Attaché [Edit: Request Denied]

Body:

Captain Kirk,

Our office has assessed the relevant risks of your upcoming assignment:

_Risk of bodily harm to crew: Negligible, Low, **Moderate** , High, Unacceptable_

_Risk of death to crew: Negligible, **Low** , Moderate, High, Unacceptable_

_Risk of damage to ship and Starfleet property: **Negligible** , Low, Moderate, High, Unacceptable_

_Recommendation for security attaché: **Unnecessary** , As available, Necessary, Vital_

_Recommendation for medical attaché: Unnecessary, **As available** , Necessary, Vital_

 

There are no unassigned medical personnel at present. Your request for medical attaché is denied.

 

Starfleet Command Official Correspondence

Office of Risk Management,

Personnel Assignments and Postings Management Subdivision

Department of Organizational Operations


	2. Chapter 2

Carrying Spock’s unconscious body through the jungle back to the shuttle required more effort than Jim had been prepared for. Uhura was ahead of the group, holding back branches and clearing a path. Chekov was directly behind him helping Scotty along, whose foot was still swollen from the presumably poisonous thorn that had gotten stuck in it. Sulu and Rand brought up the rear with most of the supplies. Jim would never understand why Starfleet insisted on sending out Research and Exploration teams without a medical attaché. To hell with Risk Assessment, they could use one.

The mediscanner and the combination of the crew’s first aid knowledge would set Scotty to rights, Jim was fairly confident, and Spock had pulled through with a short healing trance before, though the most recent injury was worrisome. He’d like to have the mediscanner take a look at Spock as well, they just had to actually get back to the ship first. Jim hoisted Spock higher on his shoulders and sighed.

 

“It suggests tripmiacyline,” Rand said, reading the mediscanner’s output. Jim tried to remember what that was, but he’d either forgotten or hadn’t learned it in the first place.

“Well, any objections Scotty?” he asked.

“No sir. I trust that thing a fair sight further than my own training,” Scotty said. Jim clapped him on the shoulder, and Rand busied herself with a hypo.

“Uhura,” Jim called, walking over to her. “How’s Spock?”

She shrugged. “I’ve made a schedule to watch him so someone will always be around to wake him up. I don’t know what we’ll do in an emergency though sir.”

Jim stared at Spock’s face, composed and perfectly blank, if a bit bruised by his left cheekbone.

“Hopefully there won’t be any problems. Who’s got first watch?”

“I do Captain. I’m already here,” she said.

 

Jim woke up at 0320 hours to Spock’s PADD beeping. A moment later Chekov threw a pillow at it and the noise stopped. Jim fell back asleep.

 

He sat next to Spock in sickbay reading the most recent reports. They were low on replacement phasers. Spock was as silent and still as ever. If Jim couldn’t see the biobed’s scanners showing his life signs he’d have seriously wondered if Spock had died. It had been four days, surely at some point the need to eat would outweigh the benefit of the trance. Jim didn’t know much about Vulcan biology, but Spock had assured him before that their healing trances were effective even on incredibly severe wounds, and just before Spock had decided to initiate one the tricorder had determined his injury ‘non-critical’. Of course, it tended to give wildly varied readings on Spock as it tried mostly unsuccessfully to compensate for his not quite Vulcan not quite human physiology.

 

Spock’s PADD flashed from the other bunk. Jim turned over and shut his eyes. It flashed again and he could tell even through his eyelids. He got up and set it in the power doc, it was nearly dead.

 

It was Scotty who was on duty when Spock needed to be woken up. There was a friendly chorus of hellos as they joined the rest of the crew, minus Sulu who’d had the night shift, on the bridge.

 

“Are you alright, Mister Spock?” Uhura asked in the small mess hall the next day at lunch. They took meals in their shifts, it was just the three of them.

“I am growing concerned Lieutenant. Doctor McCoy has not contacted me in a week,” Spock said, frowning slightly. He pulled his PADD up and navigated to his personal correspondence. “At first I believed he was simply angry with me for not responding while I was in a healing trance.”

There was something he’d forgotten on his to do list, he hadn’t even thought to send a message to McCoy.

“However,” Spock continued, “he has not responded as he typically does when he is angry. I have no concrete evidence, however I worry that he may be in trouble. Observe.”

He showed them the messages from McCoy, scrolling quickly past a fifteen minute video message from sometime right after Spock knocked himself out, the longest Starfleet permitted for personal use, and a series of increasingly antagonistic text messages over several days that transitioned into undisguised fear, the last one being, ‘I’m serious, are you and your team alright? If I don’t hear something soon I’m going to start asking questions.’ He had time to read the date the messages were sent and the first line of Spock’s reply, an assurance of their safety, before Spock shut the screen off.

“I’m sorry, I should have contacted him,” Jim said, feeling badly.

“It was not serious enough to warrant an incident submission. Such an action would have alerted him. You are not at fault,” Spock said calmly. “However, I find myself in a similar situation. He has not responded to any of my messages or queries, and that is unlike him.”

 

“Heard anything?” Jim asked Spock over breakfast the next morning. Spock only shook his head.

 

“Captain,” Uhura said, “Incoming message from Starfleet,”

“Record it please, Lieutenant,” Jim said over his shoulder, then to the irate alien on the view screen, “Yes, Umyn. I understand.”

“Of course, sir,” She said.

“We will provide for him, and we will pay a reasonable price,” they said insistently. “Our reputation is good, we take care of our own.”

“Of course, I don’t doubt that however,—"

“It is most honorable, he will be venerated, you have no right to deny him,”

Jim resisted the urge to rub his temples. The negotiations were just going in circles.

“Umyn, with all due respect to you and your people, my chief engineer is not going to be staying with you, and I will not accept any payment for him, not can he participate in any of your rituals, regardless of how well he would be treated.”

They frowned through the view screen. “You call yourself Captain, yet you do wrong by your people to deny him this opportunity.”

“I think there may be some misunderstanding, Captains in Starfleet don’t own—" Jim tried again, and was again interrupted.

“You should think long on this. I will expect your answer in the morning,” Umyn said, and the connection was cut.

Jim sighed and slumped back in the chair. Spock was still radiating disapproval over by his scanning station. Sulu caught his eye and Jim could only spread his hands in defeat.

“I’ll work through the translation again sir,” Uhura offered, “would you like the message from Starfleet now?”

“Why not. Onscreen, Lieutenant,” he said.

The face of Admiral Pike came on screen. _“Captain Kirk, we’ve received a distress call from Medical transport six-gamma, when we attempted to get in contact we received their archived ships logs. You’re on orders to investigate and provide assistance if necessary. All necessary information about their mission has been sent to your computers.”_

“I have the distress call recording and the mission information now sir, would you like to hear them?” Uhura asked.

Jim grinned, he had an excuse to leave the previous useless and incredibly frustrating diplomatic mission behind at least, “Yes put it on Lieutenant.”

Before she did so Spock said very softly, “Captain,”

“Yes Mister Spock?” Jim asked, turning slightly in his chair. Spock was holding tightly to one of his PADDs.

“Medical transport six-gamma is Doctor McCoy’s posting,” Spock said.

There was a beat of silence and Jim looked more carefully at Spock, the set of his mouth and the angle of his eyebrows, worry.

“That’s good to know, Spock, we’d better work on figuring out what’s happened,” he said, “If you need a moment off the bridge at any time, you have it.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say apparently, because Spock nearly frowned at him and swiveled in his chair away from Jim saying, “I will not need it.”

“Right then,” Jim said, slightly at a loss. “Uhura, I’ll have that mission information now please.”

“Of course, Captain. Research and Exploration Excalibur team reported distress call requesting medical assistance from an unknown planet, they reported it to Starfleet and Medical Transport six-gamma was sent to investigate and provide whatever assistance they could. I don’t have the original distress call from the planet sir, but I do have the ships log entries. I have their distress call too sir, it’s standard automatic.”

“Play the ships log entries,” Jim ordered.

_“Ships log, stardate 2269.53, Doctor McCoy recording.”_ McCoy’s voice came over the audio system and Jim spared a glance at Spock. _“Starfleet has sent us to respond to a medical distress call from an unknown planet, until now thought to be uninhabited. We haven’t got much to go on, but we’re prepared for the worst. Expected arrival is tomorrow at 0900 hours.”_ Spock’s back was still facing him and Jim couldn’t tell how he was doing. The next entry played automatically.

_“Ships log, stardate 2269.54 Doctor McCoy recording. We’ve arrived with the shuttle and been informed that the leader of this strange group of people is deathly ill. Doctor M’Benga is doing what he can with the patient for now and I’m running some samples through the computers on board. I’ll take the shuttle back with the results once I have them, and we’ll attempt to learn as much as we can about these people to send back with our report._

_“Ship’s log, supplemental, Doctor McCoy recording. The blood samples came back with a high concentration of kironide. I’m not yet sure what that implies, I don’t think it’s negatively impacting his condition. He definitely has some kind of infection, though we haven’t got any useful results on the native bacteria so far. Further supplemental recordings when I’ve got back to see the patient and heard M’Benga’s assessment.”_

The play through came to an end.

“That’s everything we received. Apparently after six days without contact to Starfleet they started broadcasting the distress signal but won’t respond to any hails sir,” Uhura said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant, Mister Sulu, how long will it take us to reach their coordinates at warp five?” Jim said.

“Six hours sir,” Sulu replied promptly.

“Very well, Lieutenant Uhura, please record this message for our friend Umyn. ‘I’m very sorry not to be able to make our appointment this coming morning, we’ve have been called away on an urgent mission, I’m sure you understand. You and your people have our best wishes, and prayers,’” he added as an afterthought.

“Yes sir,” Uhura said.

Jim pressed the ship wide intercom button on the armrest, “All hands, prepare for departure in two minutes.”

Thirty seconds later the doors opened and Rand walked in with the coffee Jim had asked for.

“All hands?” She said. “What, did we pick up an extra hundred crewmen?”

Jim took the coffee gratefully. He hardly needed it now that he didn’t have to try in vain to convince the alien representative that his chief engineer wasn’t for sale or trade, but it was appreciated none the less.

“What would you prefer I say? Hey you three?”

“It would be a bit more personal,” she said. “Where are we going anyways?”

“We’re investigating a distress call, Medical transport six-gamma, Doctor McCoy’s team,” Jim told her.

“Oh, Mister Spock, I hope everything’s alright,” Rand said, turning to Spock.

“Unlikely, considering they have sent a distress call.”

Rand blinked, apparently unsure how to take the response. Jim wasn’t sure either. Chekov and Scotty appeared as the door opened again.

“Is it safe now?” Scotty asked, “They don’t want to keep me anymore?”

“Hardly, Mister Scott, but I think I kept them up past their bedtime. We’re responding to a distress call, Doctor McCoy’s team,” Jim said.

“Doctor McCoy?” Chekov repeated, and he too turned in his seat towards Spock as if to say something but Jim decided to curtail any further displays of concern. Spock seemed stressed enough with the whole situation.

“Yes, we’re hoping it’s nothing serious. If everyone’s ready we’ll be on our way.”

Uhura said, “Transmission sent and received sir.”

“Course laid in sir,” Chekov said. A quick glance confirmed Rand and Scotty were in their seats.

“Very well. Warp five please Mister Sulu,” Jim said, and they were off.

 

 

“Take us into Standard orbit,” Jim said as they approached the planet. “Scan for human life forms, and for the ship.”

He got a three-person chorus of affirmations in return.

“All the lifeforms registering on our scanners are contained to a relatively small area, we should be able to beam down and search on foot,” Spock said. “Their ship appears to be in geosynchronous orbit with the same general area,”

Jim thought for a moment, “Is anyone in the ship?”

“It does not appear that way Captain,” Spock replied.

“In that case, I’ll going to beam down, alone, and assess the situation. We don’t know what kind of trouble they’re in. This could be dangerous, I want to take precautions. If it turns out to be an epidemic of some kind you have orders to take the ship back to contact Starfleet and get more medical teams out here. Otherwise we have to assume these people could pose a threat to us,” Jim said.

“Captain, request permission to accompany you.”

“Permission denied Mister Spock. You’ll be in command up here.”

Spock didn’t look happy with that prospect. “May I have a word with you privately then sir?” he asked.

Jim followed him into the ready room.

“Captain, I have information that may prove relevant to this mission,” Spock told him. He stood at parade rest, hands behind his back. “Are you aware of the nature of Vulcan marriage bonds?”

“I’m not,” Jim admitted. “Listen, I appreciate that you want to go find him yourself, but I can’t—”

Spock interrupted him, “I would, however it was not my intention to challenge your decision. An integral part of a Vulcan marriage is a link between the minds of those involved. Such a link exists between the Doctor and myself. Ordinarily, with come concentration, low level communication is possible through a strong link. Recently however, even during intense mediation I cannot reach his mind, I am blocked. The link exists and I know he is unharmed, however there is some powerful force at play here. I urge you to be cautious.”

It was certainly important information.

“How long has this block been in place?” Jim asked, thinking hard.

“I do not know. It was already in place when I awoke from the healing trance. However, I presume the interference coincides with the cessation of his messages to me,” Spock said.

“Eight days,” Jim said to confirm, and Spock nodded. “Spock, I need you to be completely honest with me here, are you fit for duty? If something happens to me are you prepared to take over command?”

Spock straightened imperceptibly. “Yes Captain. Should I become unfit for duty I will place Mister Scott in charge.”

That didn’t exactly put Jim’s mind at ease.

“Are you likely to become unfit for duty?” he asked.

“I certainly hope not sir, however, should Doctor McCoy’s life be in peril, or should it be lost I would—” and Jim couldn’t let him finish that sentence.

“I understand Mister Spock. I won’t let that happen.”

“You cannot make that promise,” Spock said in reply.

Jim honestly wasn’t sure how to respond. Comforting Spock wasn’t quite like comforting other people and he felt like he was missing the mark.

“What I mean is, I understand what’s at stake here and I’m going to do my very best to resolve this situation,” he said. Spock only nodded and Jim just had to hope he was doing all right in the supportive captain department. It was possible he would have had better luck appealing to Spock as a friend, but either way, it was a moot point. They had work to do.

 

Jim beamed down several hundred yards away from the structure that seemed to contain all the life on the planet. It looked to be old style Earth in design, Greek, if he wasn’t mistaken. He was alone, which was a relief, as it meant he could get the lay of the land before making contact with anyone. Painstakingly slowly he crept around the entire outer perimeter of the building. It was large, impressively so, but the outside of it told him little. He would have to press his luck and try getting inside.

“Kirk to _Enterprise_ ,” he whispered into his communicator.

_“Uhura here,”_ she answered.

“I’m going to go inside the building. Have someone get me the coordinates of the entrance with the least amount of life forms near it.”

_“Yes sir,”_ she said, and after a moment, “ _Back around the way you came, the gate you reported to us, no life forms registering within three hundred meters.”_

“Noted,” Jim said. “Oh, and tell Spock,” he wished he’d thought to ask while they were on the ship but it couldn’t be helped, “if anything changes and he can get through to McCoy I want to know about it. If he can’t reach me for some reason tell him to use his best judgement. Kirk out.” He didn’t wait for her reply, hoping he had been vague enough so as not to embarrass Spock, not that Spock would admit to being embarrassed if he was.

The gate’s hinges were silent as he eased it open. The outdoor hallway with an overhang was empty as far as he could see, which was a relief. Still, he didn’t dare risk another update to the ship. He crept down the path and listened carefully, there were voices up ahead and to the left. Pausing by the corner, he tried to make out what was being said but it was no use. They were talking to quietly. After another second of deliberation he dared peak around the corner. Starfleet uniforms, that was something. He pulled back into the relative safety behind the wall. If Spock was right, and they were under some mental influence it wasn’t necessarily safe to get in contact with them. Maybe he should have brought Spock, at least he knew McCoy, he would be able to tell if he was acting off. He dismissed the thought as it arrived. While he was sure Spock could maintain professionalism in a potentially dangerous situation, he didn’t actually aim to make his crew’s lives miserable. If anything were to happen to McCoy, at least Spock wouldn’t have to see it.

The talking had stopped and Jim wasn’t sure if he should hope they would leave or stick around. He needed more data, he would take it however he could get it. Footsteps were coming closer to his side of the wall and he looked around desperately for a place to hide, the courtyard was open, he’d be discovered. He looked up at the overhang. If he was careful, the structural parts could probably hold his weight. Trying and failing to be quiet about it, he used one of the poles as leverage and grabbed the top ledge to pull himself up. A second later three people in blue medical tunics passed underneath him. The angle was awkward and it had been some time, but he thought they did look like McCoy and his team. They didn’t talk or look up, just walked across to the other side of the courtyard and disappeared through a door. He waited a moment longer but no one else entered the courtyard.

 

Jim made his way carefully down but landed hard on his ankle anyways and winced. There was no one in the other hallway anymore, which made it a more attractive option for investigating. He wanted to get as much information as he could before he had to decide what to do. In the hallway there were several doors. He put his ear to the first one to see if there was someone inside, and hearing nothing, eased the door open. There was someone inside, someone staring right at him. The man was very short and wore a toga like outfit. He was staring at Jim with his mouth open in obvious surprise.

Jim regretted his decision not to talk to McCoy and his team when he had the chance.

“Who are you?” The man asked in a low voice, “How did you get here?”

There seemed no point in lying, since he suspected the answers to both those questions were immediately obvious, but he could be as vague as possible.

“My name is James T. Kirk,” he said, “I’ve come to collect the other Federation officers here.”

The man’s face brightened and he waved Jim inside, “My name is Alexander, you got the distress call then, did you? I hoped I’d done it right. Has anyone else seen you?”

“I did. Not that I know of. Would you mind telling me what’s going on exactly?” Jim asked. He hated to reveal the depth of his ignorance without knowing whether or not he could trust the man or his information, but he had little choice.

“Keep your voice down, they’ll hear us!” Alexander said urgently, and closed the door behind Jim. “I couldn’t just let them keep your friends, you came here in good faith to help, what kind of payment would that be? Now you’re here, can you get them out?”

It was not a particularly helpful explanation, Jim still had no idea who they were up against, but it appeared he either had an ally, or an enemy who was several steps ahead of him.

“I intend to,” Jim said, thinking fast, “I want to know more about the people that are keeping them here.”

“We’re the Platonians,” Alexander said brightly, and then to Jim’s astonishment, ran out of the room as if grabbed by an invisible hook, “Somebody must want me!”

Blinking at the now empty doorway, Jim wondered if that was an example of whatever strong mental presence Spock had mentioned. It certainly didn’t seem as though Alexander had left under his own will. Perhaps other people in the compound were using the telepathic power Spock had mentioned to influence Alexander too. Or it was all a very elaborate ruse. He cast his eyes about the room, but there wasn’t much of interest. No weapons or writings of any kind, just the same kind of impersonal décor that was present in the hallways.

He went to peak out the door again, he wasn’t doing anyone any good staying where he was. To his shock he caught a glimpse of familiar blue medical tunics across the courtyard. He might as well risk making himself known.

Jim stepped into the hallway and called as loudly as he dared, “Doctors!”

The second after he said it, it became obvious that they had been walking his way anyways, but they picked up the pace coming towards him, McCoy at the back making shushing motions. Jim didn’t say anything further. M’Benga and Chapel herded him back into the same room he’d been in and McCoy kept glancing behind them as he shut the door as if to make sure they weren’t followed.

“Captain Kirk?” M’Benga asked, “What are you doing here?”

“We’re responding to your distress signal.”

“Does anyone else know you’re here?” Chapel asked.

“Yes, I met a man named Alexander, we were talking, and he ran off.”

“Alexander’s been helping us, you’re sure no one else saw you?” McCoy joined them in their huddle in the middle of the room.

“Yes, I was careful. Would you mind telling me what’s going on?” Jim asked. He figured he’d wait to ask them about any telepathic interference, for the moment, there didn’t seem to be any good reason not to trust them.

M’Benga and Chapel turned to McCoy and he gestured that they should all sit down.

“Well I can’t explain all of it. We had orders to respond to—”

“Yes I know that part, Starfleet sent us your log entries and mission information. Are you in trouble? Are there others who need help? What’s the situation?” Jim interrupted him.

“Then you know the leader was very ill, near to death. Well we treated him and he’s just fine now, but they all have powerful telekinetic powers, except Alexander, and they wouldn’t let us leave. They’ve taken our equipment, won’t let us go back to the shuttle much less leave the planet,” McCoy said. “I haven’t been able to test any of my theories since they’ve taken our supplies, but I think it’s the kironide that gives them their powers. I’m not sure why Alexander doesn’t have them, I’d love to run some tests. We just need to get out of here, and take Alexander with us.”

Jim listened carefully as McCoy talked. Kironide was an incredible power source, he didn’t know enough biology to determine how it might affect someone with in their bloodstream, but McCoy’s analysis seemed reasonable. If the Platonians were using their powers to keep McCoy and his team in line that might also account for whatever was blocking Spock from reaching McCoy telepathically. He wasn’t as sure about bringing Alexander with them as they left.

“Why do you need to bring Alexander?”

“They’re abusing him, he’s everyone’s servant, Parmen’s been violent towards him at least once that we’ve witnessed,” M’Benga said.

“We promised we’d help him,” Chapel added.

“Well we can beam you all out of here,” Jim said. “Or we can get you to your shuttle so you can take it back to your ship.”

But they were shaking their heads.

“If they know we’re leaving they’ll just target the ship. You’d better hope they haven’t got a hold of yours already. There’s nothing we can do to fight them if we don’t have the power ourselves.”

Jim thought for a while. McCoy had said if he had his instruments he could be sure of what gave the Platonians their powers. If it really was the kironide maybe they could find a way to make it work for the humans as well. It meant he had to decide whether or not he trusted McCoy and his team to be in their right minds. He didn’t have much of a choice, he certainly wasn’t going to leave them there, with no hard evidence to suggest they were under any kind of mind control.

“Spock’s been worried about you,” he said to McCoy, whose entire demeanor changed at the mention of Spock’s name, “he said something about your link being blocked.”

“Is he okay?” McCoy asked almost immediately.

“He’s fine, he was in one of his trances for a while,” Jim said, watching McCoy closely. He looked relieved.

“I thought he might have been, but I couldn’t tell. And since we’ve been here it’s been,” he waved a hand around vaguely, “hard to get a hold of. If you know what I mean.”

Jim did not.

There were footsteps outside the door and Chapel shoved him until he was hidden behind a pillar and large chest on the floor. Just then the door opened.

“Doctors, did you find your friend?” It was Alexander’s voice.

“Alexander,” M’Benga said, sounding distinctly relieved. “Yes, he’s going to help us get out of here.”

Jim took that as his queue to stand and rejoin the group. He had the beginnings of an idea.

“I’m glad you’re back, I have a plan,” he said, and flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to _Enterprise_ , come in,”

_“Enterprise here Captain,”_ said Uhura.

“I’ve found them, everyone’s fine, but getting them out of here’s going to pose something of a challenge. The Doctor’s going to give you a list of the supplies he needs and I want you to have Scotty beam them down to my coordinates.”

_“Yes sir,”_ she said, _“whenever you’re ready sir.”_

He handed the communicator to McCoy, who seemed to have followed his train of thought.

“I need a medical tricorder, five empty hyposprays, and a concentration beaker,”

_“Scotty’s getting those to you now,”_ Uhura said.

“Christine, I need water from the well, or juice will work too if it’s easier to get. Alexander, when the supplies get here I’m going to make a scan of your blood. If I’m right, there’s something that’s keeping you from processing the kironide like the others do. If I can isolate enough from the water I can give all of us high enough doses that we’ll be able to overpower even Parmen.”

The ground shimmered and McCoy’s supplies arrived. M’Benga picked them up, handed McCoy the tricorder and began prepping the hyposprays.

“Not that I'm afraid or anything, but will it hurt much?” asked Alexander.

“You won't even know it happened,” McCoy promised him. A moment later Chapel came back with a jug full of water. M’Benga helped her pour it through the concentration beaker.

“Alright,” McCoy said, moving to join them, “We’ll try a concentration twice what Parmen’s was, if I remember it correctly. Alexander, since the kironide's broken down and injected directly into your bloodstream, it should work on you as well as us. Better in fact, because you’re acclimated.”

But Alexander backed up and shook his head, “Oh, no. Not after what they've done to me.”

Jim wasn’t sure he quite understood. “Why not? You could conceivably take Parmen's place and run the whole planet. “

“You think that's what I want?” Alexander asked, “Become one of them? Become my own enemy? Just lie around like a big blob of nothing and have things done for me? I want to move around for myself. If I'm going to laugh or cry, I want do it for myself. You can keep your precious power. All I ask is one thing. If you do make it out of here, take me with you. Just drop me any place they never heard of kironide or Platonius.”

McCoy just nodded and injected himself with his own hypospray. M’Benga and Chapel were doing the same. It was on hell of statement, and if the other Platonians were as bad as he’d heard, McCoy was right. They couldn’t leave Alexander behind after all his help. He barely felt Chapel administering the shot.

 

Despite the injection of kironide, Jim tried to stay out of sight as he tailed McCoy and the others when an invisible force dragged them away. It didn’t seem to have kicked in yet and he didn’t want to put his ship in any danger. He stayed hidden in the hallway outside of the door the other’s had disappeared through. There was a vase across the way, and he split his attention between listening carefully to the conversation inside the room and trying to make the vase move with his mind. The sound was too muffled to make out any actual words but the tone of the conversation seemed civil enough. He concentrated harder on the vase.

It moved. For a second it floated in the air just above the table, it was exhilarating. He could move it where ever he wanted, with ease.

Suddenly there was a crash from inside the room and raised voices. Jim let the vase fall back onto the table and it rocked precariously but he didn’t stay to see if it fell. He, at least, could use the kironide in his blood stream and he wasn’t about to let anyone get hurt.

The scene that greeted him as he ran into the room stopped him short.

Alexander held a knife to someone’s throat, and several other people stood, shocked and frozen, around the room.

“Do you want to be like him?” Chapel asked. She stood next to M’Benga and McCoy in the center of the room, no one paid Jim much mind.

Slowly, Alexander lowered the knife.

“Parmen, listen to me,” he spoke directly and clearly to the man he’d been threatening. “I could have had your power, but I didn't want it. I could have had your place right now, but the sight of you and your Academicians sickens me. Despite your brains, you're the most contemptible things that ever lived in this universe.”

There was silence for a moment. Parmen, rightfully, appeared to have been shocked into silence. Then the woman next to Parmen seemed to notice Jim and she narrowed her eyes and asked, “Who are you?”

“Back up,” Jim said immediately, and the spell that had held the room was broken. “But it looks like they have things under control. I think it’s time for us to be leaving.”

McCoy and his team got the message. Alexander backed off of Parmen slowly, and maintained eye contact while he and the others joined Jim in the doorway.

“They’re going to get their shuttle and return to their ship,” Jim continued, “I’m going to stay here and keep an eye on you. You are going to let us leave unmolested. Just remember, we can recreate your power in a matter of hours, it’s not worth trying anything.”

They said nothing, and Jim took the time to study them, sulking like spoiled children, until he got McCoy’s acknowledgement they’d taken off with the shuttle. He nodded one last time at the assembled group and pulled out his communicator.

“Scotty, one to beam up.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

The coffee in front of him was warm and smelled divine. There hadn’t been any when they were stuck with the Platonians, but McCoy didn’t drink it, just cupped his hands around the warm mug and sat with his eyes closed. For the first time in nearly two weeks he could feel his link to Spock bright and active like it should be, and therefor it was the first time in two weeks he could reasonably relax. Spock was fine. Kirk had said so.

He was following the _Enterprise_ team back to Starbase 11. They needed a resupply and his team needed shore leave and counseling sessions from someone who wasn’t him. Geoff had gone to the lower deck for a shower and Christine had escaped to the rec room.

The intercom whistled. McCoy sighed and left his coffee to go to the panel on the wall.

“Medical transport six-gamma, this is McCoy,” he said. The words came without his needed to think.

_“Commander Spock requesting to beam aboard sir.”_ A woman’s voice came through the com. He knew her name, but he couldn’t think of it, his head was swimming and he was exhausted, he’d been running on adrenaline for too long.

“Permission granted,” McCoy replied. Spock was coming aboard. It didn’t matter that he was tired, or that his coffee was still sitting on the table, or that he was supposed to be back on the bridge in four minutes to keep an eye on the auto pilot, he nearly tripped over his own feet as he hurried to the transporter room.

The transporter effect was just fizzling out when the door opened. It was Spock, real and alive and a part of McCoy wanted to just look at him forever.

But Spock was stepping down off the platform and saying, “Leonard,” and before he knew it his face was pressed into Spock’s shoulder and he was gripping Spock’s midsection like a vice as Spock encouraged him to lean on him and held most of his weight.

“You’re alright,” McCoy said, voice muffled slightly by Spock’s uniform. “You weren’t answering my messages.”

“I had initiated a healing trance,” Spock said, “I responded when I awoke, and became concerned when you did not reply.” His fingertips made gentle circles on McCoy’s back.

“Kirk told me,” McCoy whispered, and Spock didn’t answer. Instead McCoy felt Spock pushing him back slightly and he raised his head to meet Spock’s and let go of his waist to bring their hands together.

Kissing always felt like a luxury, even when they’d first gotten married, but especially since they’d been officially posted to different ships. They had seen each other barely four months ago, and there Spock was in the flesh standing in front of him again. He couldn’t help but marvel at it, and at the way the link was bright and active with the touch of Spock’s hands. It was always there, but McCoy was no telepath, and with time and distance his sense of Spock in his mind grew rather more tenuous. With Spock standing in front of him pressing their fingers together, he could feel quite clearly Spock’s mind touching his, the wonderful tangible proof that Spock had missed him just as much as he had missed Spock.

The com panel on the wall beeped quietly. McCoy pulled back.

“I have to check on the auto pilot.”

Spock let him go with visible and mental tangible reluctance and McCoy couldn’t help but catch his hand and bring him along to the bridge.

 

The auto pilot was fine, as McCoy had known it would be, and after logging his acknowledgement of that fact he turned right back to Spock who had been standing behind him, as close as he possibly could be without getting in McCoy’s way. He needed to ask Spock when he needed to be back with the _Enterprise_ , he also needed to check in with Kirk himself and gather his team to debrief. Both of those things, he figured, could wait. Geoff and Chapel deserved a little while longer to decompress, and Spock was still stuck to him like a barnacle and he didn’t have it in him to pull him off.

They leaned on the red guard rails and Spock hid his face in McCoy’s neck and held tightly to fistfuls of McCoy’s shirt.

He said, “I do not like hostile aliens interfering in your mind.”

It wasn’t really funny, Spock was being genuine, and McCoy agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly, he was still trying to shake off the visceral discomfort of losing control over his own body, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little. Maybe it was relief.

Spock kissed him again and ran his fingers through McCoy’s hair. It would have been frowned upon if anyone ever bothered to pull the security footage, but McCoy let his thumbs slip under Spock’s shirts and rest on the bare skin of Spock’s hips.

In his mind, Spock was warm and glowing.

 

“One hour to go,” Christine told him, poking her head into his office.

“Thank you,” he said, distracted, and she disappeared again. He had almost finished reading through her and M’Benga’s reports, they all had to be sent in with his signature, preferably before they docked. Then, finally, they would have their days off.

Spock did not have any days off, which was par for the course, but irritating. The _Enterprise_ team was scheduled to spend six hours docked for resupply and then head out again, although Spock had been hazy on the details of where they would be going, which meant Starfleet wasn’t sure yet.

It had been nice, after Spock had been called back to his post, and Geoff and Christine had taken their respite, to get to shower and take a nap on his own ship, with all the modern Federation conveniences, and after that, to have a ship in close enough contact to chat over subspace.

Medical transports spent a lot more time with other ships or known settlements than R&E teams did, but they spent so much time moving from place to place, it was rare that they saw the same people twice. Even more rare was the fact that no one on the _Enterprise_ needed so much as an updated physical. He had all the time he wanted just to catch up on paper work. After the past week, he wasn’t in any mood to complain.

 

McCoy knew he should get off the ship, Geoff had already been in and out of their quarters, grabbing a few thing he wanted for the day. Christine hadn’t even done that, though she had told him where to find her, if he wanted company. He could look for a restaurant, try something other than what the ship’s replicators had programed, or even shop, but he had the entire rest of his leave to do so if he wanted to, and with the ship docked it seemed like he was finally able to relax, which he planned to take advantage of and nap.

Unfortunately, someone was requesting access to the ship.

The hatch slid open to reveal Spock.

“Are you here on official business?” McCoy asked in surprise.

“No, the Captain has given each of us an hour window to explore the station,” Spock said, stepping inside and allowing the hatch to close behind him.

“Which I can see you’re taking advantage of,” McCoy replied, and Spock only raised an eyebrow. “I was going to take a nap, but—”

“Are your crewmates here?” Spock asked.

“No.”

Spock stepped closer to him. “Are they likely to return within the hour?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you wish to nap?” Spock’s fingers came to rest on McCoy’s waist.

McCoy let his own hands trail up Spock’s sides. “I suppose I could wait another hour.”


End file.
